


for keeps

by ariohsix



Series: everything to win [1]
Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, No Plot/Plotless, Pining, Short One Shot, possibly if you want to see it that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-11-24 21:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18170177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariohsix/pseuds/ariohsix
Summary: Snufkin is leaving again, and another year brings another round of the same troubles with oneself (pushed onto everyone else, of course).





	for keeps

Every year, the sure sign that Snufkin had to leave was not the chill on the wind or the frost fluttering through the air, but it was the sign of something warm turned cold all the same. It was the way Moomintroll’s face would scrunch up, the tell-tale twitch of his nose that meant all the tears he’d succeeded in holding back up to that point were flooding forward. That, he thinks bitterly when his back is turned, is the worst flood Moominvalley has to suffer every year.  
  
The tears are his own fault, really. Moomintroll’s, not his. Didn’t he heed his warning years ago when the comet still streaked its terrible trail above them? Nature always found a way to punish those who wanted to _have_ things in one way or another. Indifferent waves sweep away rivers and houses all the same, and it’s the houses’ faults for wanting to have one place all to themselves. Fathers too — Moomintroll should know that better than anyone, and yet Snufkin can’t understand why he still wants so much. Snufkin feels grumpy all of a sudden.  
  
_He_ should _be crying, that Moomintroll_ , he finds himself thinking, though he immediately feels bad and wants to bury the idea right where he found it.  
  
_If he won’t learn from my telling him, then certainly words won’t help him_ , the horrible thought continues, as loud and dreadful as distant thunder.  
  
“It’s not the way of things to want too much,” Snufkin says aloud now, his boots crunching along the snowy path out of Moominvalley. He pulls his mouth-organ from his rucksack and gives it’s mirrored surface a wipe with his sleeve.  
  
“Keeping anything comes with a price, and if you ask me it’s always far too high,” he continues to no one in particular, as no one is there to listen. “Tears are expensive. A Snufkin who owns only what is free never cries over anything because he has nothing to lose, so that must be the right way of things.”  
  
An image of Moomin on the bridge flashes through his mind and he doesn’t welcome it at all. His face is still scrunched in that horrible way, his soft mouth frowning in a way that didn’t look right on the happy-go-lucky creature.  
  
“Pah!” he says out loud again, to the sky and the wood and whoever’s listening that could maybe get the image of his friend to leave him. (He does not want to have to ask.) “What did I say? Go through life without wanting anything and you’ll have nothing to-!“  
  
A drip hitting the snow in front of him stops the young vagabond in his tracks. He thinks of Moomin again. The memory that comes up is against his will, yet great golden relief rushes through him as the image of his friend on the bridge is replaced by that same soft mouth smiling in the summer sunset.  
  
Two more drips hit the snow in quick succession, burrowing little holes in the frosty surface as they fall. Snufkin looks up to the branches, expecting to find the newborn icicle that’s making such a fuss somewhere among them. Instead, he feels an unfamiliar wetness roll down his cheeks and towards his ears, though the crisp forest wind whips them away before they can reach them.  
  
Snufkin reaches up to touch the tears as they roll down his face. He hasn’t cried in a long time. He also hasn’t taken a breath in the last minute, and when he does, it comes out shaking and shuddering like a leaf.  
  
“Lose,” he sobs out, finishing his sentence with a sniffle. He pockets his mouth-organ again and uses his now free hands to scrub furiously at his eyes, which only prompts another wave of tears. When he opens his eyes again, the trail before him is blurry. He walks on anyway, and the crunch of the snow under his boots is the same as before.  
  
“Nothing to lose,” he repeats with the voice that he knows will eventually stop shaking, just as it does every year.

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a long time since i've written lol
> 
> 4/10/19 edit: two things! one, thank you everyone for all your lovely kudos and comments! i’m so happy to share my writing again and please look forward to the next entry in the series! :D 
> 
> and two, if you’re interested in seeing any of my upcoming moomin fanart (or just want to say hi!) my art account handle is @ariohsix :)


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